


For Joy of Life

by dawnstruck



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Gen, Goat Farm, M/M, Post-Canon, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:17:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnstruck/pseuds/dawnstruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When first they had come to the village, everyone had been wary of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Joy of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to call this "Where the Heart Is", but apparently there are other stories with similar titles so I changed it.

When first they had come to the village, everyone had been wary of them.

In a place such as this you rarely saw new faces, so the strangers were eyed with suspicion - but also with curiosity.

The bigger of the two spoke with a strange lilt to his tone, as though he had been traveling for a long time and almost forgotten the rough edges of their language, but he was German still, built like an oak and strong as a bear. In one way or the other he was one of their own and that was the only reason he was not turned away at once.

The smaller one was different, dark of skin and hair and obviously born in faraway lands where the sun was hotter and the woods sparse. His height did not hint at it, but underneath his cloak he was as a young stag, lithe and fast and dangerous in his own right. He spoke their tongue haltingly, using only simple words, but whenever he did his companion shone a proud smile on him.

Agron and Nasir they called themselves and asked for permission to settle close to their tribe, grow their own plants, keep their own goats. They were no farmers, though, and everyone could see that.

It was evident in their muscles and in their scars, in the way they carried themselves and looked about a place, assessing all dangers and escape routes. When first they arrived, they brought not working tools with them, but weapons. Daggers, knives, strange swords and even spears, yet there was no fight in them, no strife.

"We wish only for a peaceful life," Agron had said and there was hope in his voice, but also weariness.

 

Agga had lived in the village for all her life and in all those years she had never met anyone who sounded quite so weary.

She had talked to her fellow elders and after a while they all agreeds that their settlement could use some strong hands and fresh blood. Three of her granddaughters were still unmarried after all and finding husbands who looked quite so hale and handsome was a difficult feat, even if they would have to make do with strangers.

With some help from the other men, Agron and Nasi quickly set up a small but sturdy house at the outerskirts of the village, complete with a reed roof and a fence for the goats and the chickens they meant to buy.

Agga was not surprised that as strangers in a strange land they would choose to stay close together and to build two separate houses in preparation for large families would seem a little overeager. But as the first weeks slowly passes, Agga found herself wondering.

The girls of the village, her granddaughters included, would move about in flocks and w atch either of the newcomers from a distance. Even Agga could not deny the pleasant heat she felt whenever she saw Agron's arms bulge as he lifted a heavy weight.  
And Nasir's hair was as a raven's feathers, dark and gleaming, and his smiles like the sun, so even though he lacked the words to properly engage anyone in conversation he still had a lot of attention focused upon him.

Because then there were the boys as welll, drawn in by jagged scars and burn wound, by the foreign language used whenever Agron and Nasir spoke among themselves, belying the arduous journey that lay behind them both.

Agga was old but she had not seen much beyond these familiar woods so she, too, longed to hear which stories their new neighbors would surely have to tell. She also saw the dark look on that sometimes fell across Agron's honest face and the silences that kept Nasir's eyes downcast and absent-minded. So she never asked and urged the other to keep their questions to themselves as well. If they so wished, Nasir and Agron would speak to them in their own time.

 

There was another thing Agga noticed. Namely how Nasir would snort and roll his eyes when Agga's granddaughter Elfren grew bold and sent Agron coy looks and inviting smiles while Agron just laughed a little helplessly and quickly fled into the other direction.

Or better yet, the time young Alfric asked Nasir to show him how to quide a sword and Nasir good-natureldy indulged him, though it was obvious that he knew much more than he could ever teach a boy of seventeen.

Quickly, a gaggle of other people had gathered to watch the rare spectacle as Nasir patiently demonstrated the motions, Alfric doing his best to imitate him.

Agron, though, had been there as well, arms crossed, fists clenched, teeth grinding as though someone had just mortally offended him.

"You want to see a real fucking fight?!" he finally demanded loudly and the humble crowd errupted in cheers. Alfric quickly scrambled aside and offered Agron his sword, though the man didn't even glance at him.

It seemed to take Nasir a moment to understand what was happening, but then they were circling each other, moving like feral wolves, hackles raised and teeth bared. And though their blades were blunt they traded sharp glares and sharped words. Agga could not understand what they were saying but they were obviously goading each other on.

Finally, Nasir made the first move, throwing himself into the attack with a spirited battle cry. Agron easily side-stepped him but had to turn around quickly in order to block the immediate follow-up from behind.

It went like this for quite some time but instead of tiring, the fight seemed to fuel their strength. Eventually, though, Agron grabbed Nasir by the wrists, brought his foot between Nasir's ankles to make him stumble and then rammbed his shoulder against his breast.

The breath was knocked out of Nasir and then again when he went down hard. He did not surrender, however, instead twisting his body and swiping his legs to Agron's feet from under him, bringing him down as well.

For a while, the two opponents rolled around in the dirt together, grunting and cursing, but then Nasir gained the upperhand, holding Agron in a chokehold and not letting go.

He hissed something into Agron's ear and Agron the oak shook his head stubbornly, even though he was red in the face. From where she was standing, Agga could see a sudden calm come over Nasir, his gaze going from angry to sly, and then he said something else, less of a hiss and more of a whisper.

Agron stilled. When he finally nodded his surrender, Nasir let go of him.

They lay on the ground, panting, not acknowledging those around them, until the crowd slowly dispersed.

Agga had a feeling none of the boys would be asking for fighting lessons again anytime soon.

 

That evening she had thought of the bruises the two men must have sustained in their fight and that surely they must be regretting it by now.

So she had taken a clay vial of the poultices she always kept in store for any sort of ailment, intent on delivering it to her neighbors so they could tend to their wounds, even if they seemed familiar with much graver injuries.

She had made her way through the dusky light of the sun almost disappearing behind the tall tops of fir trees and beeches. Nasir and Agron's abode stood well apart from the others, lonely and seemingly abandoned of it weren't for the faint flicker of candle light from the inside. Even their chickens had retired into their small pen and Agga could hear them clucking contentedly as she neared.

There were other noises, however, which made her pause. 

They were fighting again or fighting still, she realized as she stood in front of the door with her hand raised for knocking. There were grunts and angry voices again, their words bitten short and spat out, breath heavy with exertion.

Agga did not wish to barge in, but she also deemed it dangerous for them to keep fighting. They were friends after all and friends should not get so rough with each other. And if their anger had been upheld for all these hours there was a chance that things might get out of hand. They were skilled at fighting, she knew, and ran risk of seriously harming each other.

After another moment of indecision, Agga finally risked a glance through the half-covered window. She had always been short, even more so in age, and had to crane her neck to get a proper look inside.

As she had suspected, the two men were wrestling again. Agron had Nasir pushed down against the bedstead in the corner of the small room. Nasir's face was buried in the blankets, his fingers clenched in the pelt they had been gifted by Clothar. 

But then Agron reached out a hand and grabbed a fistful of Nasir's hair, pulling his head back and exposing his long, graceful neck. Agron pushed at him again and Nasir let out a loud, drawn-out groan.

It was only in that moment that it occured to Agga that she was not watching a fight after all. 

They were both still mostly dressed, from what she could see, but then Agron pulled them up so they were both on their knees, chest to back, and started tearing at Nasir's tunic, revealing bronze skin and the curious triangle shape that had been burned into the man's side.

 

They were fucking, Agga realized, her eyes widening as she saw Agron thrust his hips in an erratic motion. Only she had never witnessed anyone fuck quite so ruthlessly. 

She would have been worried for Nasir, wondered whether this wasn't just an extension of their fight, a vengeful punishment bestowed to him by Agron, had the bigger man not chosen this moment to growl something in Nasir's ear that made his companion throw back his head and bark out a laugh that rumbled deep in his chest and throat.

And Agron bit at his neck quite viciously while Nasir reached behind himself, grappling for something to hold on to, Agron's arms, his clothes, his arse.

Agga had heard of men lying with each other, of course. But never would she have imagined something quite so wild and depraved.

Still clutching the vial tightly in her hands, she turned around and quickly turned around and made her way back to her family's house.

 

For weeks after that she just watched them. Watched them buy their first goat and proudly lead her around by a leash as though she were the greatest treasure in the world. Watched as they plowed their land and planted cabbage and turnips. As they chopped wood for the long winter ahead although it was still summer.

She never told anyone what she had witnessed and everyone kept treating them the same, even if it took her a lot to do the same.

But then her son's bitch birthed a healthy littler of pups that needed new homes and of course Nasir and Agron could use a guard dog, even if they seemed more than capable of guarding themselves.

"What will you call him?" Asmund asked as he handed over the little charcoal bundle of fur, "He's already the biggest of his litter. He deserves a proud name."

"Oh, he'll be a fearsome creature one day, for sure," Agron mused, scratching a large finger underneath the soft tiny muzzle, "But now he is still a sweet little pet. I was thinking of Crixus perhaps."

And there was laughter in his voice but also a sadness in his eyes and Agga wondered who this Crixus was that he would have a dog named after him, both as an insult and a tribute to fond memories.

And she watched as Nasir placed a hand upon Agron's arm in silent comfort and little Crixus chewed on Agron's fingers playfully. And a pup's teeth were sharp as needles, but Agron's eyes just squeezed shut as a big grin spread over his face.

 

"You are spoiling him," Nasir reprimanded Agron, hand on his hips and gaze on his companion's hand that was feeding their dog scraps of meat.

"I am not," Agron objected, though everyone knew that he was indeed spoiling the animal.

Crixus followed Nasir's every command, from whistles to mere hand signs, but when it was only Agron around he became impish and impertinent. Now he sat on his haunches, wagging his tail and regarding Nasir his brown attentive eyes.

Nasir only huffed. It was obvious that he couldn't punish the dog for his master's thoughtless behavior, but Crixus was to be more than just a plaything.

"Come and drink with us," Clothar invited, patting the empty space on the treetrunk between himself and Agron upon which they were sitting, "We have much cause for celebration."

Clothar's niece Signy was getting married to Leif, a blacksmith's apprentice from a nearby village. So there was not only the wedding to toast to, but also the fact that Leif had decided to settle down in their village instead and open his own smithy which meant less travel for the rest of them.

Signy had flowers braided into her flaxen hair, her cheeks flushed with wine and freckled from the sun. Leif's grin was near splitting his face, his short beard gleaming copper in the flare of the fire. 

The night was still young but the drink plenty. Elfren had already asked Agron to dance twice but both times he had stuttered and declined, claiming that he was not much of a dancer. Now Hilla took heart, however, and she had her sights set on Nasir.

"Dance with me," she told him, before her ever had a chance to accept Clothar's offer to sit. Unlike Elfren she also left no time for objection, simply took Nasir by the hand and let him away to where the few musician's were playing a hearty jig.

Nasir was quite apparently not used to this manner of dancing, or any manner at all, but it was of no import, as Hilla simply dragged him around by the shoulders, leaving him no opportunity to lead. She was laughing, though, and soon he was, too.

 

Agga watched them with amusment. Agron watched them as well, but his face was grim and he tossed back another cup, not even paying attention to Crixus who kept nosing his hand in hope of more treats.

Eventually, Agron seemed to have had enough. If Agga hadn't known any better, she would have thought that he had been hoping to dance with Hilla, annoyed that she would choose Nasir instead.

She know better, however, and was not much surprised to see him set a hand on Nasir's shoulder to halt them in their twirling and hopping.

The look on Nasir's face was quite unreadable, but the one on Agron's spoke of possessiveness and fire. Then he pulled Nasir against him, one hand grabbing his, the other on his hip, and then they were off.

It took a moment for Hilla's mouth to snap shut again, but then she was shrugging and laughing and asking Alfric to dancing instead.

And Agga watched for Agron was not as bad a dancer as he had claimed in front of Elfren, even if he and Nasir did stumble a couple of times, a mixture of drunkeness and enthusiasm.

Then the jig was over and the musicians took up a different melody, this one much slower and softer. Gerolf who had a deep, smooth voice started singing along. It was a familiar tune and a familiar story, of a man who climbed mountains and bested beasts in an effort to be reunited with his love.

But Nasir and Agron did not stop, just slowed their motions enough to fit the rhythm, swaying gently back and forth. Agron had one big hand on the back of Nasir's head then, his thumb rubbing small circles, and Nasir rested his cheek against Agron's chest.

And everyone was watching them, at least it felt like it to Agga, but Agron just ducked his head and pressed a kiss into Nasir's hair.

Maybe, Agga thought, it was not all quite as depraved as she had initially believed.

 

The wedding had been held in what turned out to be the last week of summer. Autumn was golden and plentiful, but short as usual. They were all used to it, of course, but Nasir was not.

He huddled in his coats as Agron laughed and turned his face toward the cold drizzle. In the mornings they'd be almost lost in the thick mist, vague shapes that moved about to feed the animals.

Often they would stop in their work and Agron would take off Nasir's gloves, rubs his hands with gentle fingers and blow hot breath on cold skin. Eventually it got too freezing for even the animals to stay outside and they were brought into the houses to become an additonal source of warmth, if also dirt.

When the first snow came, Agron lead Nasir outside, standing behind him with his arms wrapped around his friend, his lover, and together they watched the snow flakes fall, Agron with memories of his childhood written in his eyes and Nasir with wonderment.

Agga wondered whether he's ever seen snow before or whether maybe this was just the first time for him to appreciate the beauty of it. He never complained about the cold, but Agron always stood close by him and shielded him from the wind.

East of the Rhine winters were often long and arduous and there was little to do during the dark nights. It was now that Agron and Nasir who were still strangers in more ways than one became more forthcoming about their past.

"We were captured by Romans," Agron revealed quietly when they were gathered around in Agga's house, drinking hot mead and chewing on dried meat, "Made into slaves. Gladiators."

He rubbed his upperarm then where Agga knew strange letters lay beneath the wool, branded into the skin. 

"Gladiator," little Eike repeated the peculiar word, "What it that?"

"I was made to fight and kill other men for Roman amusement," Agron explained and there was an edge to his voice, hinting at the plethora of swearwords he refrained from using.

"But he freed himself," Nasir added, setting a more pleasant direction, "And then he freed me."

"Wild little dog that you were," Agron huffed and Crixus yipped in agreement.

There was more to it than just that, Agga suspected, too many wounds and too many friends lost to account for the shadow that lay upon their hearts. Crixus must have been one of them. And Agron's brother Duro, too, though he had only spoken of his once.

"You have come a long way," she observed.  
"We have," Agron nodded and sounded amazed that he still lived to tell of it.

"Yet our journey is not over," Nasir reminded gently and then Agron smiled again.

 

When spring returned, Nasir and Agron had been living in the village for near-on a year. No one would call them strangers anymore. They were called friends instead. 

Crixus was always underfoot and Agron was always chasing after a wayward goatling and Nasir was always vainly asking Agron to braid his hair, looking over his shoulder and sending him smoldering looks.

The girls had mostly given up on them, but sometimes Hilla would touch Nasir when Agron could see and delight in the way the bigger man stalked towards them as though he still had not figured out that she only did it to provoke him.

As quick as he was to rise to a threat, a challenge, an insult, as easily did he calm down once Nasir's voice reached through to him. For all their spats and their discussions about how many chickens were too many chickens they seemed more than contend with each other.

It wasn't an easy life nor a particularly exciting one, but it seemed to treat them well. Agron no longer woke the others by jerking from his nightmares with a cry and Nasir no longer flinched whenever moved too quickly without warning.

Maybe Agga would never hear their full story, but she was quite happy to watch the rest of it enfold in front of her old eyes.  
"It's been a year," Agron contemplated, his eyes on Nasir who playing with some of the children who alternatively tried to put flowers in his hair or engage him in a battle with sticks.

"And have you found what you were looking for?" she asked.

"Peace?" he nodded, "Yes."

"And a home?" 

For this was the true reason they had come here. Even in this violent world, peace could be found in many places. And peace was not enough to keep a man satisfied, especially not one as this.

But a home, that was an alltogether different thing. A house you could return to. Neighbors that offered their help. A dog that followed your every step. Geese that welcomed you with excited chatter, dirt tracks that your feet knew by heart.

A lover that wished to grow old with you.

Agga's man had died many years past and she knew that this was one of the last springs she would see. She had no regrets in life and no doubts.

She glanced at Agron standing by her side and imagined to see a sliver of grey already in his hair, saw the lines on his face and the aches in his knees.

Soon, he would be old, too, and so would Nasir. They had escaped death many times, but they couldn't do so forever.

But death seemed much less daunting when one was surrounded by loved ones, when there were friends and family to mourn and cherish you.

"Why are you smiling so?" Nasir asked as he approached them after the children had finally run off. The words rolled off his tongue much more easily, but there would always be an enticing ring to it, foreign and fascinating.

"For joy of life," Agron answered simply and it made Nasir smile in return.

"A good reason," he approved, tilting his head back and pressing a kiss to Agron's lips, both of their smiles widening even further.

Home, after all, was where the heart is.

**Author's Note:**

> Review for Crixus puppy!


End file.
